C10

Maribel Westbrook smoothing the hem of her dark navy trousers while looking in the mirror, attempting to calm her racing pulse after the sudden shock of the transferred medical debt notice. Before she can fully gather her thoughts, Maisie Langford and Tessa Whitmore barge into her modest suite in the Executive Residence Wing, dumping a mountain of corporate evening wear across the bed.

“I really don't think I should go to this networking reception, guys,” Maribel says, turning around to face her two friends with a deep frown.

Tessa, who is already aggressively sorting through a rack of tailored blazers and silk blouses, stops and scowls at her. “You are absolutely going! Who knows when entry-level interns like us will ever get access to the main floor of the Sterling Estate again? I know exactly how we’re going to style your hair.”

“It’s going to be brilliant, Belle. You need to live a little,” Maisie adds, tossing a set of silver earrings onto the vanity.

“It’s precisely because I want to keep my career alive that I’d rather stay right here,” Maribel replies, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Both girls laugh, unaware of the terrifying financial threat resting on Maribel’s phone. Maribel’s mind is completely consumed by her mother, Colette Westbrook. The sudden disconnection of her mother’s phone line and the terrifying notice from Maddox Sterling mean her family’s entire life is dangling by a thread. Attending an elite corporate party feels completely wrong under such heavy pressure. Yet, she realizes that panicking will solve nothing. Her mother might simply have had her personal devices audited or confiscated during the debt acquisition. Writing a formal letter or investigating through the internal administrative directory might be her only option.

Maribel refuses to believe her mother is completely helpless, but she cannot afford to be naive either. She has already lost her father to corporate infighting years ago; she will not lose her mother to the Sterling Group’s ruthless restructuring division.

“I hear the senior corporate associates have been rehearsing their venture pitches all week for this event,” Maisie says, checking her lipstick in the mirror.

“I heard the catering is high-tier executive quality, and we won't have to eat according to intern clearance levels tonight!” Tessa exclaims, her eyes lit with excitement.

Maribel presses a hand against her stomach, realizing she hasn't eaten a proper, full meal since arriving at the Sterling Executive Institute. “I suppose I could go for about an hour,” she mutters.

The two girls squeal with excitement. Tessa grabs Maribel by the shoulders and forces her to sit on the edge of the desk. She reaches under her bed frame and pulls out a high-end hair styling wand.

Maisie gasps, covering her mouth. “Are you even allowed to have that in the residence wing?”

“Please, it’s not like the management offices do surprise inspections on basic intern quarters,” Tessa scoffed. “I can't wait to fix up your hair.”

Nearly an hour later, after straightening Maribel’s dark locks into sleek, professional waves, they prepare to step out into the corporate plaza. Maribel settles on a crisp dark blue tailored pantsuit with a pale blue silk camisole featuring a sharp sweetheart neckline. She pairs it with clean white leather pumps, ready to face the elite crowd.

Maisie opts for a sleek black cocktail dress, while Tessa wears a rich emerald-green structured gown. Both of them have arranged to meet dates from the operations division. Watching them feel so excited makes Maribel’s chest tighten with a strange isolation.

They head toward the grand central courtyard of the Sterling Estate. Two junior executives are waiting near the polished marble steps. Maribel naturally trails behind as Maisie and Tessa link arms with their respective partners. She hadn't fully thought this through. Everyone at this reception will be networking alongside their wealthy fiances or influential business partners. At least the executive buffet will offer decent food, which will likely be her only real comfort tonight.

To her surprise, the grand lawn of the Sterling Estate has been transformed into a lavish corporate exhibition. Interactive trading games and high-end catering stations line the perimeter. The corporate associates are running the entire evening’s entertainment. For the first time since her arrival, the rigid boundaries of the institute seem slightly blurred. No strict badge colors are separating the tiers, as everyone mingles in high-fashion evening attire. However, the exclusive elite cliques haven't vanished; they have simply moved to the open lounge areas.

“You should have signed up for the executive charity auction,” Tessa says, holding a glass of sparkling champagne.

Maribel turns her head toward the raised pavilion. Sure enough, a long line of ambitious junior associates stretches back toward the executive wing, waiting to bid on a brief private consultation with one of the primary board heirs. She lets out a soft, tired breath. Corporate politics.

“Belle, come on, let’s go near the main floor,” Tessa’s date calls out. He is a tall, confident junior executive with short brown hair and a tailored charcoal suit, smiling as he gestures toward the stage.

Maribel steps back, leaning against a grand marble pillar. Tessa looks at him and then shoots Maribel a guilty glance.

“Oh, don't worry about me! Go have fun,” Maribel insists, offering a small wave.

“Are you sure?” Tessa asks hesitantly.

“Go on, Tessa. I was just about to head over to the main catering station anyway.”

“We’ll find Maisie afterward, and the three of us can grab drinks together,” Tessa promises before letting her date lead her into the bustling crowd.

Maribel lets her hunger guide her toward the executive buffet. After filling a porcelain plate with prime tenderloin, roasted asparagus, and truffle mashed potatoes, she slips away to a quiet, dimly lit bistro table near the edge of the garden to eat in peace.

She watches the reception unfold. The corporate associates are taking their places on the central platform, preparing to deliver their promotional presentations. Scanning the crowded lawn, she catches sight of Keaton Waverly standing near the fountain. She starts to offer a polite nod, but before he notices her, his fiancé, Sloane Everhart, steps into view. Sloane catches Maribel’s eye, a sharp, cold smirk spreading across her face as she deliberately slides her manicured hand up Keaton’s arm, claiming her domain.

The petty display is clearly meant to intimidate her, and despite herself, Maribel feels a sharp prick of annoyance in her chest. Sloane’s smirk quickly hardens into a icy warning sneer. Maribel pushes her half-empty plate aside and stands up. When Keaton finally glances in her direction, Maribel cold turns her back on him. She has had enough of high-society posturing for one night.

The walk back to the Executive Residence Wing alone in the dark is far more intimidating than she anticipated. The long, tree-lined stone pathways of the Sterling Corporate District are quiet and cast in deep shadows. A sudden crunch of gravel behind her makes her heart leap into her throat. She spins around on her heel, letting out a sharp breath.

“Relax, intern. It’s just me.”

“Maddox!” Maribel exclaims, placing a hand over her thumping heart.

Maddox Sterling stands beneath the warm glow of an estate lantern, his broad shoulders filling out a dark tailored suit shirt with the top buttons undone. Even in the dim light, his gray eyes burn with an intense, unyielding clarity. For a terrifying second, Maribel feels an overwhelming, magnetic pull toward him that leaves her breathless. She quickly shakes her head, trying to snap out of the trance.

“What are you doing out here anyway? I doubt you were looking for an entry-level candidate,” she says, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.

Maddox flexes his jaw, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. “Actually, I was taking a walk when you practically stumbled into my path.”

Maribel looks past him down the narrow stone lane. “Taking a walk toward the intern residence wing? This path doesn't lead anywhere else.”

Maddox lets out a low, frustrated breath and runs a hand over his face. “You ask far too many questions, Maribel,” he mutters sharply.

He turns and begins walking briskly ahead of her down the paved walkway. “Come on,” he demands without looking back.

“What? Where are we going?” Maribel asks, her heels clicking rapidly as she trails behind his long strides.